Working Class Claire
by Poppy471
Summary: Claire must join the ranks of the employed or face the consequences. What is working life like for the princess? Claire/OC. M for adult situations. This is a reworking of a previous version.
1. The Ultimatum

**Chapter One**

"No!" Claire yells. "I won't do it!"

"You'll do it or lose your allowance and car privileges." Her mother stands with arms folded, quiet and firm. She shares Claire's red hair and brown eyes, and is now looking as fixed as Claire has ever seen her.

"I hate you!" Claire can't believe this is happening. Tears burn her eyes as she turns and flees upstairs. There is no way she's going to flip burgers. She'd rather die than be working at McDonald's when Nan and Chad come in after a day on his father's yacht. But she can't live without an allowance either.

After crying for a while, Claire thinks to call Allison. She picks up on the third ring.

"Allie, you wouldn't believe what my mother is making me do. She says I have to work this summer." Claire puts all of her distress into that one word.

"Oh, but that's good, Claire. You can work with me on Henry Tillard's campaign. He's running for senate. Your mom doesn't care if you make money, does she?"

"Henry Tillard? My cousin's husband is Ralph Gorney. He's running against Tillard."

"That's no good." Allison pauses and then suggests, "You could do it anyway just to piss her off."

"I need to be able to drive and have money. Mother would cut me off. No, I'll have to do as she says. But what job can I get? I can't do anything."

"You can put lipstick on with your boobs."

"That's not a marketable skill, Allie."

"You like to shop… Why not get a job at the mall?"

She stops to think about this. It would be mortifying if she had to ring Nan up at 5-7-9 or Macy's, but better than working at McDonald's. Perhaps… if she got a position at a store she knew Nan never shopped in…

"Al, I think that might work. But how do you get a job?" She has no experience with this. Does one simply go in and ask for work? Then what happens?

"You put in applications. What you have to do is…" Allison goes on to explain the steps of seeking work: looking in the paper for ads, putting in applications, going for an interview. This all sounds so complicated, but Allison bolsters her confidence. Claire definitely can dress well, and that is half of the battle in getting a clothing store job.

"Can you come with me?" she asks Allison.

"I start work with Tillard's campaign Monday. Anyway, being seen with me won't help you get a job."

Allison frequently speaks uncomfortable truths like this. She's right of course.

After an update on Andy's wrestling injury (his knee is still in a brace), Claire hangs up feeling much reassured. Thank God for Allie.

* * *

Monday morning Claire dresses carefully in her Laura Ashely dress. Not one of those horrid puff-sleeved flowered monstrosities. This is a maroon and cream geometric pattern in a slim pleated look, with a bit of a 1940's flair.

Her first stop is JC Penney. Nan would never shop there. She decided against Payless Shoe Stores. Nan wouldn't be caught dead in there either, but Claire might be spotted through the shop window. She puts in an application at Sears as well. On impulse, she goes into the Mushroom. Maybe she can find something for John. A skull head lighter perhaps. Somehow she ends up in front of a display of lewd joke items. When she realizes what she is looking at, she is mortified. Before she can move on, a shop clerk approaches.

"Can I help you find something?" His red lips and blue eyes are a sharp contrast to his pale skin and white-blonde hair. Claire blushes, then feels like an idiot for blushing. She puts down the package of colored condoms she'd been inspecting. She's never seen a condom before; she'd thought they were odd balloons, maybe the long skinny kind you can twist into dogs and hats and swords.

Trying to cover her blunder, she says, "Yes, I'd like to look at your lighters and wallets," as confidently as she can.

"Over here." He gestures to the counter at the front of the shop. "You looking for something special?"

Is she? Yes, she is looking for a gift for John.

"I want something with a skull or a snake."

"That narrows it down," the clerk says. Is he serious or being sarcastic? She peers into the case. He's being sarcastic.

Summoning up her haughtiest manner, she says, "Thank you. I believe I can browse on my own."

The clerk returns to the cash register where he busies himself with a clipboard. While inspecting the merchandise, she can't help but look back towards the clerk. His lips are so red and his eyes so blue. He glances up from his clipboard and she snaps her eyes back to the display case. Maybe he'd been making fun of her with his sarcastic comment, or maybe he just has a sense of humor about life. It is hard to tell. Why does she care? He's just some random guy. Finally she settles on a Zippo lighter with a skull and crossbones on it.

"You don't look like the skull and crossbones type. This a gift?" the clerk asks. His eyes are dancing with private amusement.

"For my boyfriend," she answers, making her voice as cold as possible. Jerk.

* * *

John's father works first shift, so it is safe to visit John in the morning. On her way home from the mall, she decides to drop by to tell him about her mother's strange dictum and her productive morning. She is now feeling proud of herself, having overcome her apprehension about applying for jobs. She hears John's voice and knocks lightly before letting herself into the Bender home, as she always does.

Sylvie Pearson's blouse is half unbuttoned. Claire can clearly see this as Sylvie is facing the door from her position on the couch. Her position on top of John, on the couch. To be specific. Sylvie's sultry smile stops, frozen.

John's voice continues, playfully asking, "And what do we have under here, young lady?" as he unbuttons another button. After a motionless second, Sylvie jumps up and pulls her blouse shut. John's head becomes visible as he sits up, asking Sylvie, "What's wrong, honey?"


	2. The Search

**Chapter Two**

Claire doesn't know how she gets home, blinded by tears, but she ends up sitting in her driveway, crying against the steering wheel. She had been so proud. She'd envisioned John's pleasure when he realized she had come down from her ivory princess tower and planned to get a job. She'd been happy imagining his praise. She'd been looking forward to his kiss, to being in his arms. To letting him undo the buttons on her own dress.

Thank God she'd never given in to his pressure to go all the way. She had come close a couple of times. It was something she seriously considered. Sylvie was such a tramp, she'd probably have caught something from him. But how could he? He said he'd loved her. But now that she thinks about it, he mainly said that when trying to unzip her pants or sneak a hand up her skirt. How could she have been so stupid? This thought only makes her cry harder. Finally she pulls herself together and goes inside, straight up to her room.

She starts to dial Allie, but realizes she's probably at her own job. Instead she gets out her journal. Her entry is full of capitalized words, exclamation points and dark, emphatic underlining. Feeling if not really better, at least more calm, she studies her wardrobe. She needs to plan interview clothes. Thinking about clothes always relaxes her.

* * *

"Where have you applied?" Claire's mother asks over dinner.

"Sears and JC Penney."

"Did you talk to the managers?"

"Only at JC Penney. At Sears she was out for her break."

"You'll need to call them in a couple of days if you don't hear from them. Remind them who you are, tell them you are motivated."

"Yes, mother. I plan to do that." That was the advice Allison had given her too. "Is Dad going to be home tonight?"

"Your father has to take clients out to dinner tonight."

Claire's mood dips. She can't talk to her mother about John. Her mother never understands. But Dad does.

As if reading her mind, her mother says, "That boyfriend of yours called."

"He's not my boyfriend anymore. Tell him don't call here again."

"I'm glad to hear it honey. I never liked him."

"Thanks a lot mother! That makes me feel better!"

Claire pushes away her plate and huffs up to her room. Perversely, she doesn't want to hear bad things about John. He was good for her in some ways. He'd taught her to loosen up. He'd taught her to kiss. She had lost a good deal of her snobbishness thanks to him. She gained some backbone too. When Nan ridiculed her new boyfriend, Claire stuck up for John instead of folding to Nan's pressure. Nan is no longer interested in having Claire as a friend, but she has Allison now.

Allison is a lot more fun, it turns out. Nan always made her feel insecure and inferior because she didn't have as much money, as many clothes, as nice a car, as many friends and admirers as Nan, and Nan never let her forget it. Allison doesn't have a competitive bone in her body and is much more inclined to be playful and have fun. From this new, post breakfast club perspective, she sees Nan was never any fun. All her laughter was at someone else's expense, all her games mean spirited, all her conversation venomous.

Thinking of her friend, she calls Allison. No one answers. She must be at Andy's. Her parents don't care when she gets home, so she is frequently at Andy's until Andy has to go to bed. His father insists athletes need more sleep than mere mortals and still enforces a bed time. Which is embarrassing for Andy and the knowledge of this is strictly for the breakfast club alone.

Feeling very low, she calls Andy to see if she can butt in on their evening.

"Claire, we were just talking about you," Andy says when he gets to the phone.

"Can I come over? I'm feeling pretty bad."

"Sure, we're playing rummy with Brian. Come join us."

* * *

"John and I broke up," Claire announces without preamble, upon entering the Clark's family room.

Allison gets up from her seat at the card table and leads her to the couch. Claire rests her head in her hands while Allison puts an arm around her.

Brian quietly says, "What happened?"

"He cheated on me. With Sylvie Pearson." Claire begins crying again.

"That bastard. I'll knock his teeth down his throat." Andy is all prepared for action.

"No, don't. Don't do it Andy. I think I gave him a black eye already." One part of her found punching him imminently satisfying, but the other part felt sick and defeated. He hadn't tried to defend himself or retaliate. He took it like a man.

"Good for you, Claire," Brian says. "He deserves it. Cheating is the lowest thing…"

Surrounded by sympathetic friends, her pain doesn't diminish but it feels easier to bear. Eventually Claire asks about Allison's campaigning job to take the focus off her and her troubles. She doesn't really listen to the answer, but floats on her friends' companionship.

When it is Andy's bedtime, she gives Allison and Brian a ride to their homes, then drives out to a spot overlooking the lake. A parking spot she and John had made use of frequently. Now she feels sick that he even thought it possible she might give up her virginity in the back seat of a car. Eventually, drained by her long day and roller coaster of emotions, she drives home and quietly goes to bed.

* * *

Her mother wakes her to come to the phone. It's the manager at JC Penney. She wants Claire to come for an interview that afternoon.

Claire shakes her head to rid herself of thoughts of John, Sylvie, the sick way she'd felt when she heard John using the same words with Sylvie that he used with her. Thinking about the future is better. She focuses on the beginning of a new life, a life of working.

Preparing for the interview takes her a full two hours, but she allows herself plenty of time. She carefully dons her stylish Ralph Lauren outfit, a simple white men's style shirt and stone colored skirt, with riding boots. Hair and makeup perfectly arranged, she is ready to go. Guiding the car into the mall parking lot, she feels a rising flutter in her stomach and coldness in her feet. So people really do get cold feet.

She finds the manager, Jill Usher, waiting for her at the changing rooms, where there is also an employee entrance to the manager's office. Claire follows, her feet seeming to not actually connect with the ground. Is this an out-of-body experience?

Her lack of experience worries her, but Jill seems impressed by her references. (Andy's mother and her riding instructor.) When Jill begins talking about hourly wages and shift breaks, Claire realizes she's being offered the job. She immediately closes with the job offer. Her duties include tending the accessories section and ringing up people at the junior's section cash register.

Jill shows her around and they settle on a training shift the next day at 9.

Claire is crossing the atrium and heading for the parking deck, rummaging in her Coach bag for her car keys, when her fingers find the smooth cold surface of the zippo lighter she'd bought for John. She stops to look through her wallet. Yes, she still has the receipt. Getting rid of the damn thing would be beneficial. She doesn't want it around as a reminder.

The blonde clerk is there again, this time using his price gun quickly and efficiently on a row of—wouldn't you know it—colored condoms. She averts her eyes from the embarrassing merchandise and focuses on the lighter and receipt.

"Your boyfriend didn't like it?" he asks as he goes through the necessary steps for refunds.

She gives him a short "No." It's none of his business.

"Maybe something with a snake would be better?"

"No." She refuses to engage in conversation with this man.

She looks around for something to distract her and her eyes fall on the condoms. Had John kept one in his wallet in case he got lucky with her? In case he got lucky with Sylvie? With how many other girls? Finally the clerk hands her her refund and she escapes the colored condoms.

When she reaches home, her father's car is in the drive. He greets her with a kiss.

"Your mother tells me you broke up with John."

Knowing he's always a sympathetic audience, she spills the entire story.

"… so I punched him," she concludes.

"That's my girl." Her father looks proud. "Guys like that, from low backgrounds, can't be trusted. I never wanted to say anything, but I didn't like him very much."

When her father says this, somehow it doesn't hurt the way it did with her mother.

"You'll find the right guy."

This reassurance cheers her. He's right.

"I love you, Dad." She hugs him. Then, switching gears, she eagerly tells him of her new job.

"You didn't have to do that sweetheart. I'd have given you an allowance. And the Prelude is actually in my name, technically."

"Dad, don't. I hate it when you guys argue about me. I think I'm going to like working. As long as Nan never sees me."

She bounces upstairs, still riding her high from her successful job search.

Allison congratulates her when she calls in the evening. Claire prepares herself for sleep in a pretty happy mind frame considering she found her boyfriend cheating on her just two days ago.


	3. The Weasels

**Chapter Three**

It turns out Claire is good with the cash register. By the end of her training shift, she is ringing up customers herself, punching the big buttons, folding and bagging clothes neatly, even chatting with the girls and their mothers while she does her job. Janie Jepson buys some jeans. Claire hadn't thought about this. Although Nan never shops at JC Penney, other girls from school do and will spread the word. Well, so what. Nan can go stick it. She has the fleeting thought John would be proud of her for that defiant thought, then pushes it aside. He can go stick it too.

She returns from work feeling cheerful, but the letter from John waiting on the mail salver brings her down with a bump.

 _Dear Claire_

 _Please don't be mad. I'm sorry. Sylvie never meant anything to me. It's always been you. I love you, Cherry. Will you forgive me?_

 _Love, John._

She tears the note up with more force than necessary and throws the fluttering pieces in the kitchen garbage can.

* * *

As Claire establishes herself as a good worker over the next two weeks, she is given more shifts. She usually grabs something from the food court during her meal break. There are no sushi vendors, but the coffee shop is pretty good, serving pastries and sandwiches. One busy Saturday afternoon Claire is sitting at her favorite table at the coffee shop. She catches sight of white-blonde hair and sees the clerk from the Mushroom. She glimpses him from a distance occasionally and always manages to avoid him. Between the colored condoms and his interest in her boyfriend, she wants to stay as far away from him as possible. Today she is startled out of a reverie by that very man addressing her.

Holding a sandwich in one hand and an espresso in the other he asks, "All the other tables are full. Can I join you?"

She shrugs in a way that she hopes will discourage him, but he smiles broadly and sits across from her.

"You have good taste," he says, indicating her empty demitasse cup. "Not many people appreciate espresso."

She is secretly impressed by his liking of espresso also, but prevents the approving smile that wants to form on her face.

"You still looking for something for that boyfriend of yours? We got some Harley Davidson wallets in yesterday."

"I don't date men who like Harley Davidson wallets," she says in her most snooty voice.

"But he does like zippo lighters?"

He says this as if zippo lighters are in the same category of merchandise as Harley Davidson wallets.

"I returned it, didn't I?" She sees his eyes are filled with amusement; he's teasing her. Now she's annoyed with herself as well as with him. Why had she allowed herself to be sucked in?

"No need to get mad. I'm just trying to make friendly conversation."

There is a pause as they both eat their sandwiches. She wishes her good breeding didn't prevent her from bolting her sandwich and escaping. She'd love to gulp it down and be done with this whole situation. Instead she takes small lady-like bites at polite intervals.

"You work here? I see you around a lot," is his next conversational gambit. He's noticed her? She isn't sure how she feels about that.

"Yes, I work at Penney's."

"I would have figured you more of a Macy's girl."

She bristles at the idea that working at JC Penney is a step down from Macy's, even though that was her own opinion when she took the job.

"That's Dior, isn't it?" he asks. "They don't sell that at Penney's."

Her annoyance flares up again when she sees the smile forming at the corners of his mouth. She refuses to rise to the bait and only continues with her sandwich.

"You're a woman of mystery. Christian Dior and JC Penney, Coach bags and zippo lighters."

Her cheeks are burning but she won't answer him.

"Well, I see I cannot penetrate the mystery in one sitting."

Finally. She's sated her hunger sufficiently and gathers her dishes, readying herself to go.

He looks at her name tag and says. "I guess I'll see you around, Claire."

She gives him a small nod and thankfully escapes.

Her day does not get better. After being teased through her lunch break, she is mortified to see Nan and Michelle entering the junior's section. What on earth are they doing here? Can she hide? But no, Jill left her alone at the register. She can't abandon her post.

Casually browsing through the clothes, they meander towards the register. Nan looks up and meets her eye.

"Oh hello Claire. Look Michelle, it's Claire Standish. She works here." Nan says this as if this is the most amusing thing. "I had heard rumors of course, but I said 'No, not Claire Standish, she can't be working somewhere so tacky. I have been proven wrong."

"Perhaps she shops here too," Michelle says, venom dripping from her words.

They both laugh cruelly.

"Look, here's a polyester blouse with an elastic waist skirt," Nan says. "It would be perfect for Claire."

The two girls continue with their sneering game. Claire burns with anger. She believes she could actually punch Nan. Then an unexpected source of strength wells up. She sees John Bender in her mind's eye; he wouldn't care about Nan. Now she sees Allison and Andy too. They wouldn't care either. And Brian, would he care? She has real friends now, not bitches like Nan and Michelle.

Finally Nan and her companion tire of their game and leave. Claire looks up from the register to see her lunch companion.

"What were those two doing here?" he asks as he approaches.

"They were here to laugh at me." Claire finds she is too wrung out to mind that he'd seen her humiliation.

"I'd sooner laugh at them, those weasels. Primping for hours so they can put out for meat-head football stars. Vapid nitwits." He turns back to Claire. "Now, on to important matters. My Aunt Delia is having her 60th birthday party this weekend and I need a gift. I thought to myself, Claire! She could help, with her fashion sense and kind nature. Surely she would have pity on an inept fellow like myself."

Laughter bubbles up in Claire. Somehow he has dispelled the last lingering poison the girls had injected.

"I can show you some accessories, over here. Maybe she'd like a scarf?" She leads him to the prominent display. "We have these challis scarves, in scarf and shawl sizes. The material is quite soft."

He finally chooses a shawl in deep red with a jewel tone paisley pattern. Ringing him up, she notices how intensely blue his eyes are.

As he hands over his money, he says, "My name's Scott. You should come back to the Mushroom. I'll make you a deal on a new zippo with a snake and a skull on it." She laughs. "C'mon, I know your boyfriend would love it."

"He's not my boyfriend anymore," she volunteers. Why did she say that?

"Oh really… And your new boyfriend, does he appreciate skulls and snakes?"

"I don't have a new one."

"Now how could a lovely young lady like yourself be without an admirer?"

"Maybe I don't want a boyfriend."

"Yes, I can see how it would be hard to find a man good enough to deserve your beauty."

His outrageous flirtation is making her blush. No boy from school ever spoke to her like this. She doesn't know how to respond.

"Well," he says, gathering up his bag. "If you ever have need for skulls and snakes, you know where to find them."

* * *

When they settle down on a bench outside Sweeney's Ice Cream, Allison wants to know everything about Claire's new acquaintance.

"He's funny. He was making fun of me at lunch, then said the craziest things about me being beautiful." Heat rises to her cheeks again, remembering it. She focuses on their shared sundae.

"He made you blush!" Allison sounds triumphant. She plucks out the cherry by the stem.

"Nan and Michelle came in to make fun of me." Claire hopes this will distract Allison.

"Those two aren't worth worrying about, Claire. You're ten times better than them."

"Scott called them weasels." Now why has she mentioned him again?

"I like him! He's right, little and vicious, that's what they are."

"I'm glad I'm not friends with them anymore. Nan was almost as mean to me when we were friends as she is now. I'm glad I have you guys now, real friends." Claire marvels yet again at how lucky she was to land in detention. But that brings up the idea of John. Without him, they would have stayed in their rigid worlds of cliques. He was the one who broke down the barriers.

"Why did he have to do that with Sylvie Pearson?" Claire asks mournfully.

Allison grasps her chain of thought.

"What John did was shitty, but I sort of think he can't help it. It's no reflection on you," Allison says.

"My father says you can't trust people from low backgrounds."

"That's bullshit," Allison says. "John was untrustworthy because he was John, not because his dad works in a factory."

Claire contemplates this as she nibbles the ice cream on her spoon.

"You're right," Clare responds. "Look at Nan and Michelle; they come from good backgrounds and see what weasels they are."

"Weasels, that's perfect." Allison giggles. "When do I get to meet this guy?"

Meet him? She had lunch with him once and helped him pick out a scarf. It's not like he's a friend or anything.

"Why do you want to meet him?" Claire asks with suspicion. Is this a crazy Allison idea?

"Because he likes you, obviously. You need my approval before you go out with him."

"I'm not going to go out with him!" Claire rejects that idea.

"Well, remember what I said. If you change your mind, I have to meet him first," Allison declares. She plants her spoon in the ice cream for emphasis.

Claire protests, "There is no mind to change, he hasn't even asked me out."

"Yet."


	4. The Movies

**Chapter Four**

Claire's mother's Mercedes and her father's BMW are both in the garage at the same time, for once. They're never home together these days.

And maybe that is a good thing. She hears the raised voices upon opening the front door. It sounds like they are in the kitchen, which means she can sneak upstairs without being seen.

"… you just want to keep up with the Sherwoods. They have one so you want one," her mother shouts.

"All they're asking is two fifty. Be reasonable, Marie."

That's her mother all over, always saying No. Their voices fade as she turns the corner of the landing.

Depression starts creeping up on her. She hates the fighting and it seems like that's all they do these days. What are they fighting about this time? she wonders. They fight about money a lot; that's what it sounds like tonight. When they aren't fighting about money, they are fighting about her. Sometimes they fight about both at the same time. The last such argument resulted in Claire's MasterCard being taken away. Her father just slipped her a new one the next week, so it was an ineffective gambit on her mother's part.

She knows they argued about her needing a job. Her mother was of the opinion she was a spoiled child and needed to learn about money. Her father's position was that Claire needn't ever worry about money in the first place. She didn't hear the rest of that argument, retreating to her room as usual.

Their fighting was bad enough, but when they dragged her into it, it was that much worse. She thinks about her brother in Chicago. He's free of the warfare. He'd asked her to visit him. Maybe she should go. She's only been shopping in Chicago, never seen the museums or enjoyed the dining and cultural events. She'd love to see the symphony.

The idea cheers her up and she day dreams about dressing for the symphony and for fine dining. They have a Ralph Lauren store in Chicago…

* * *

"But you never go to the mall, Allison." Claire is surprised.

"It's Andy's birthday next week. I want to get him something funny. C'mon, give me a ride."

They set off at noon on Monday, Claire's day off. Claire has definite ideas about where to go, but Allison wants to window shop a bit. When they end up in front of the Mushroom, Claire realizes what is going on.

"No," she whispers. "We can't!"

"Oh yes we can." Allison saunters in, looking at the items near the door… t-shirts with varying slogans, tie-dyes, a prism separating a rainbow on a black t-shirt. Claire follows with great reluctance.

"I want something funny," Allison declares. "Let's look back here." She pulls Claire along by the arm. They end up in front of the joke selection. Allison holds up a coffee mug designed to look like a woman's torso, nude. Claire shakes loose and escapes to the poster section. More of that weird prism and rainbow on black. She flips through the rack and comes to the heavy metal posters.

"A fan of Blue Oyster Cult?" She looks up from a poster featuring a grim reaper and sees Scott. Of course. That was Allison's plan.

He's laughing at her again, she can tell by the way his eyes crinkle.

"We have t-shirts too, from that album," is his helpful remark.

"No, I'm here with a friend. She wants something funny for her boyfriend's birthday."

"She's found the right spot."

They both look at Alison inspecting a book with a toilet on the back cover.

"Yes, if she's juvenile. Which she's not. That stuff is awful," Claire says with distaste.

"You don't like potty humor and sexist jokes?"

Claire gives him what she hopes is a withering look, but thinks she might not have succeeded because he appears to be laughing to himself again.

"Come over here. We have some items you might actually like."

Scott guides her to the front case again, but to the far corner.

"These," he says, "are done by a local artist, by hand."

Claire looks down and sees a collection of earrings and necklaces featuring delicate dragonflies in blue and green, their gossamer wings a marvel of craftsmanship. She is so lost in the contemplation of the gauzy wings and tiny details, she doesn't hear Allison approach.

"Oh," Allison breathes. "Those are beautiful."

Scott removes a long necklace that features a dragonfly pendant the size of a quarter, and lays it on a black velvet-covered square so that she can look more closely. He pulls out the matching earrings as well.

Allison looks up first.

"Do you have anything men might like?"

"I think I know exactly what you're looking for," Scott declares and leads Allison to another jewelry case. When she leaves the dragonflies, Claire finds her looking at silvery peace sign necklaces.

"These are hematite, which is supposed to be very calming."

Allison looks delighted. "Yes, hematite is good for inflammation too." She glances at Claire and says, "This is perfect for his knee. They say the inflammation is not going down."

Claire doesn't believe in Allison's healing stone ideas, but does find the green stone Allison gave her pleasant to touch, especially when she's tired.

Scott rings up Allison's purchase and Claire drifts back to the case with zippo lighters. She can't quite believe John is gone from her life. He would be so proud of her, getting a job, standing up to Nan, doing so many things on her own.

Allison collects her and they rejoin the flow of shoppers.

"I approve. You have my permission to like him," is Allison's pronouncement.

* * *

Claire's work week continues without a hitch and Friday night finds her at the Royal Multiplex 13 with Allison, Andy and Brian. They haven't decided which film to see yet, so they stroll along outside, looking at the various movie posters and show times. Brian wants to see the astronaut movie, The Right Stuff, of course. That doesn't sound too interesting to Claire, she'd rather see Romancing the Stone, but it seems as though she is going to be over ruled. They are just turning to take one more look at the movie posters when Claire hears her name called.

"Claire! Hey there. What are you guys going to watch?" It's Scott. He's come with a group too; there are a couple of guys standing a few feet away, looking at the Dune poster.

Claire is obviously the spokesperson, so she clears her throat to answer, but Allison speaks up first.

"We want to see The Right Stuff, but Claire doesn't want to. She doesn't like space things."

"They," Scott gestures to his friends, "want to see Dune, but I don't like science fiction."

"Why don't you guys see something together?" Allison suggests. Claire wants to melt into the pavement. How could Allison be doing this to her, pushing her off on Scott?

"That's a good idea. You like comedies?" he asks.

"Oh look at the time, The Right Stuff is about to start." Allison herds the group in the direction of the box offices, leaving Claire alone with Scott. She'll pay Allison back for this, she swears she will.

"What do you say? Eddie Murphy is in Trading Places."

One of the guys approaches. "Scott, man, the movie is starting. You coming?" He looks impatient.

"No, you go. I'll meet you afterwards."

Scott steers her down the row of posters and they stop in front of Trading Places. It has Dan Aykroyd too. She does love Eddie Murphy and Dan Aykroyd and has never seen them together. It starts in 15 minutes.

"Sure, I guess so. It looks good."

Claire is entirely embarrassed when Scott buys two tickets without consulting her first. He escorts her inside, asking, "Would you like some popcorn? Something to drink?"

She shakes her head, too nervous to speak.

"OK," Scott says in a jolly voice, "I'll have to get some on my own. You wait right here."

She gropes her way onto a bench to wait. The lines are long. Her nerves calm down a bit and she is looking around with interest when Scott returns, holding the biggest bucket of popcorn she's ever seen, and two drinks. He hands her a drink as he juggles the popcorn and his own drink.

"Here we go, the movie is about to start." He gestures her towards the entrance, where he gives the usher their tickets with some difficulty.

The previews haven't started yet and the lights are up, so they navigate to the seventh row easily and claim two seats in the center.

"Here," he says as he hands her the popcorn. "You can hold it and we'll share. Don't tell me you don't want any. Everyone wants popcorn at the movies."

She's sure she's going to do something stupid like drop the popcorn or spill her drink. When the lights dim, she relaxes a bit. All she has to do is sit here for an hour and a half. She can sit without disgracing herself. Without thinking she scoops up some popcorn. It's fresh and tasty.

She relaxes further when the previews end and the movie starts. It's going to be good, she can tell right away. They made the right choice.

At 8:20, they emerge laughing.

"Maybe we need to put those snobs in gorilla suits too," Scott suggests.

"The weasels who primp for football players?" she asks.

"Yes, the exact two I was thinking of. How do you know them anyway?"

"School. You don't go to Shermer High." This is half question, half statement.

"No, I graduated from Franklin this May." Seeing her lack of recognition he adds, "In Chicago."

She's impressed. He's a sophisticate from the city, and a graduate.

"So what did you do to get on their wrong side?" He sees her face and hurries in, "Of course, you don't have to do anything to girls like that, the little backstabbers. They're the same everywhere."

"I dated the wrong guy."

"Ah, the skull and snake lover. I can see that. So you don't bend to pressure?"

"Not any more. They were almost as mean when we were friends as they are now. I've got better friends now."

This leads into the detention story and they are still talking away when The Right Stuff lets out. Claire introduces Scott to the group. Claire sees Allison smirk and promises herself she'll get her back. Then Dune lets out and Scott's friends come to get him. On the way to Sweeney's Allison teases Claire, who is prevented from physical retaliation only by the fact she is driving.

At home, she has to admit she had a great time. He's a funny guy, and fun to be around. And from Chicago. Maybe he could take her there one day. She day dreams for a while about all you can do in Chicago. It's only a half hour train ride away…


	5. An Invitation

**Chapter Five**

Saturday morning it's back to work. Claire feels floaty and exuberant. Her morning passes happily. She wonders if she'll see Scott, if he's working today. Should she drop by the Mushroom? Or would that be too forward? Too forward, she decides.

She lunches at the coffee shop, then is run ragged all afternoon. Jill has her attending accessories and it is all she can do to prevent the place from looking like a train wreck, all the while assisting customers. When she emerges from the department store into the atrium at six, she sees Scott leaning against a pillar. Waiting for her? Waiting for her. As usual, he looks like he is enjoying some secret amusement.

Feeling bold, she asks him, "What is so funny today?"

"I was just wondering what different people would do if they switched places with a homeless man. See him?" He cuts his eyes towards a beefy, well-dressed man with a cane. "See, he'd have an advantage because he already has a limp. He could really milk that. But maybe he's too robust."

"What would you do?"

He whips out some dark sunglasses and says, "I'd be blind, of course."

Scott pushes off the column he's been leaning against and asks, "Can I walk you to your car?"

Claire's stomach does a huge flip-flop. She manages a smile and a nod.

"How did your friend's gift go over? The hematite pendant?" Scott asks.

"He loves it, never takes it off. He showers with it on."

"And the inflammation?" He holds the door to the parking deck for her.

"It's gone. He doesn't need his knee brace anymore." Claire looks over at him. "But that was just coincidence."

"Maybe."

"You believe that stuff?"

"Let's just say I've seen some unusual things. I'm open to the idea."

"This is what she gave me." Claire pulls out the striped green stone.

"Malachite, beautiful. You carry it all the time?"

"Yeah, it's nice to touch. Smooth. And it reminds me of Allison." They have arrived at her car.

"You've got a good friend there."

"I know I do." She leans against her Prelude and decides it is time to be brave. "I had a good time last night, Scott."

"I did too. Could I call you? Maybe we could do it again?"

"I'd like that." She rummages in her bag and tears a sheet of paper from a small notebook, writes her number on it and hands it to him.

* * *

Allison squeals with laughter when she hears Claire's news.

"When are you guys going to go out? Where is he going to take you?" Allison asks.

"We haven't made plans yet. He'll call me. Why are you so gung-ho on this guy anyway?" Claire is twirling the phone cord around her finger.

"He has a good aura. Green and blue, good colors for you."

"You know I don't believe that stuff." She is nervously plucking at her bedspread now.

"I have a good feeling about him."

"Did you have a good feeling about John?"

"Well… you're both red, so I wasn't sure. You're red and orange and he is red and purple. I think there was too much heat."

Claire tuts. This is nonsense.

"When do you think he'll call me?"

"Soon. He likes you."

"Oh jeez, my parents are at it again." The sound of raised voices drifts up the stairs. They must be arguing in the foyer. "Do you want to hang at your place? I can't stand this."

"I'm sorry, Claire. I'm balancing Andy's chakras tonight."

"You're doing what?"

"Helping him heal through meditation."

Claire rolls onto her back, head hanging over the edge of the bed. "You're too weird, Allison."

"You like me anyway."

It's true, she loves Allison, weirdness and all.

"OK, go do your mumbo jumbo. I'll wear my Walkman; maybe that will block them out."

* * *

Claire is on tenterhooks for two days. Scott calls on Monday night.

"There's a movie on at Cinema Nouveau I thought you might like. It's here for four days, Thursday through Sunday. Would you like to go?"

"Sure, I'd like that." She is running her finger up and down the seam on her down comforter. "What movie?"

"Stranger Than Paradise."

"Oh!" She sits up. "I read about it in the Back Beat. I really wanted to go, but couldn't talk Allison or anyone into going with me. It won an award at the Cannes film festival, didn't it?"

"Of course you know Cannes." Scott laughs. "Yes, it won Caméra d'Or."

"I have to see it." She's still upright, all alive at the prospect of such an exciting film.

"Would you like to go Saturday night? Movie and then dinner?"

"I'd love to."

They make arrangements for him to pick her up at seven Saturday night.

It's her father she asks for permission, mainly because her mother is buttoned up in the study, working.

"I'll be here to meet him, honey. I hope you did a better job of picking a boyfriend this time," her father says, looking down at her. "Someone of our circle I hope."

"Really, Dad, you're such a snob. I have no idea what circle he belongs to."

"He's got to be better than that John character. Are you through with your rebel phase?"

"Dating John was not a phase." For once her father is disappointing her. She thought he had understood about John. About his hidden vulnerability, his unswerving ethics when it came to treating people fairly, his need for love.

* * *

Tuesday and Wednesday pass unremarkably, work and visiting with the guys over at Andy's. Andy's knee is completely better and he just needs to do the physical therapy exercises. Brian gained entrance to a top science and math boarding school for the next year, full scholarship. Allison has taken up yoga. Claire finds all of this infinitely comforting. It's a relief from the cold war at home. Her parents are not on speaking terms at the moment.


	6. Diaries and Druggies

**Chapter Six**

For once she has a Saturday off. She bathes and robes herself, fixing her hair and makeup meticulously, and is downstairs at 6:45. Her father joins her not long after.

"Why don't you tell me about this young man?" he asks.

"Well, he's from Chicago and graduated in May."

"What school?"

"Franklin." She's trying very hard to not pick at her nail polish.

"That's a fine school. Where will he attend university?"

"I don't know. He never mentioned anything about college. He works at the Mushroom."

Her father winces.

"What, Dad?"

"He works at a head shop?"

"What's a head shop? It's a gift shop and they have tons of glass sculpture in the back."

"Honey, that's not sculpture-"

They are interrupted by the doorbell.

Scott looks and acts like a parent's dream. Her father restricts himself to chit chat about Chicago sights and the Cinema Nouveau. Soon enough they are out of the uncomfortable interview and on their way in his Volvo station wagon.

Cinema Nouveau is crowded but they snag good seats. Claire's nervousness dissolves as the movie sucks her in. A long, strange hour and a half later, they emerge into sunset light, a huge orange sun hanging between the downtown buildings.

"Do you want dinner?" Scott asks. "There are a couple of places down here on Oliver Street. Costa Rican, Greek, an American place with incredible hamburgers…"

"Oh, Ichiban is on Oliver Street. I love sushi."

"Sushi it is." Scott gives her a smile that sends thrills through her.

They reach the end of Oliver Street and ascend the few shallow steps that lead to Ichiban's entrance. The place is a controlled madhouse, it being the prime time dining hour, but they are seated at the sushi bar quickly, where they can watch the chef.

"You've never had sushi?" Claire asks. This seems preposterous to her, that you could live in a city like Chicago and never have had sushi.

"No, never. It wasn't the thing to do, at Franklin. People are pretty conservative there."

"You're in for a treat. Shall we share?"

"I defer to your judgment."

Claire chooses marinated octopus to start. It is novel to be the expert. She is accustomed to being led, not being the leader.

When the octopus arrives, she slips her chopsticks from their paper sleeve and snaps them apart. The slices of octopus glisten in their sauce, sprinkled with sesame seeds and garnished with cucumber. She looks up with anticipation, to see Scott's reaction. He bravely dips in and tries a slice.

"It's so tender." His expression delights her.

They progress to a spicy tuna roll and a dragon roll and she teaches him how to clear the palate with pickled ginger.

"Wait, that stuff wasn't cooked?" He looks a little alarmed.

"The eel in the dragon roll is cooked, but yeah, the tuna was raw." She laughs as he adjusts to that idea. "It was good, yes?"

"Well, yeah. It was very good. And that other stuff was eel? That one was fantastic."

Scott takes care of the check and they make their way through the busy, packed restaurant. Outside, the evening is soft and balmy. Without speaking they make their way to the lakeside walk, where couples and families stroll, enjoying the air and the lapping of the water. A rush of pleasure shoots through Claire when Scott takes her hand in his.

After discussing the movie and dinner thoroughly, they turn back towards the car. Tension mounts in Claire as they drive home. How old fashioned is he? A kiss on the cheek? More?

What he does is turn her hand palm up and kiss it so that her fingers curl with the curve of his cheek, stroking him. She has never felt such electricity. He releases her hand, but she keeps it there, touching his cheek. They both lean into the gentlest of kisses, barely brushing lips. She pulls him closer and moves her mouth against his. All too soon he is pulling away.

"Thank you, Scott. I had a really good time."

"Let me walk you up to your door, make sure you can find your keys."

She finds her keys easily and Scott gives her a swift kiss on the cheek. Eyes unfocused, she dreamily shuts the door and kicks off her shoes. Her fuzzy feelings are shattered by her father's voice, loudly demanding, "Claire, get in here right this second."

She starts and looks at her watch. She is home 15 minutes before curfew.

In the living room she finds her father and then sees, lying on the coffee table, her journal. Her father has never looked so mad.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

He snatches up the journal and shakes it. "This is what's wrong. It's in here, everything."

"You've been reading my journal?"

"How could you have let that John person do this to you? You've been doing way more than kissing."

"I'm 17, not 12. And it's none of your business! You had no right to look in there!" Her fury now matches his.

"It's a good thing I did, young lady. You're grounded. No more dates, especially not with that druggie from the city. You have no idea what you're messing with."

"Druggie? Scott?"

"You're too naïve to know, but that gift shop is a shop for drug paraphernalia and your young man is sure to be dealing, coming here from Chicago with drug connections."

She never falters in her belief of Scott's innocence, but struggles to put together the pieces that led to this wild accusation. "What paraphernalia?"

"Those glass sculptures are marijuana pipes, and I am sure they keep other items behind the counter. Did you ever wonder why it's called the Mushroom?"

Returning to his explanation of reading her journal, she asks, "Where did you find my journal? It was in my bedside table drawer. Why were you looking in my drawer? Why were you in my bedroom at all?"

"Don't side track me. You went way too far with that John and I will not let you do that with this drug dealer. No more dates. No more anything. You are grounded until I say otherwise. Go to bed."


	7. The Talk

**Chapter Seven**

Claire wakes to fuming anger. How could he have violated her privacy like that? And why does he think she should be some kind of pristine angel? It is hugely unfair.

She rolls out of bed. Needing sympathy and a soft ear, she picks up the phone to call Allie. The phone is dead. Puzzled, she jiggles the switch hook. She tries again, then shrugs and gives up. She needs to get some breakfast and get to work.

Her father is downstairs.

"Dad, my phone is broken." She hates being civil to him, but she needs to have the phone fixed.

"No, it's not. I have cut your phone. It is one of the privileges you've lost. No calling that fellow. I won't allow any contact at all."

"You are so unfair! I hate you!" She storms upstairs, crying from anger and frustration. Throwing herself on her bed, she immerses herself in her misery. She can't even call Allison for consolation and comfort.

Eventually she runs out of emotions. Life goes on and she must go to work. She showers and goes downstairs for breakfast. Her father is in his study, thank God.

Dipping her spoon into her Yoplait, she contemplates her position. Her father can't watch her every minute. While she's at work, she can slip over to the Mushroom and tell Scott what happened. And ask him to call Allie. She will wonder what happened to Claire.

It is with listless energy she moves through the motions of her job.

"Claire, what's wrong? Are you ill?" Jill looks concerned.

With effort, she puts on a smile. "No, I'm just tired today. I'll try to wake up."

She chugs a double espresso in lieu of lunch and goes looking for Scott. In the Mushroom, she finds him stocking the shelves of the joke area. He turns with a box of colored condoms in his hand. Ordinarily she would be mortified, but the embarrassing box barely registers.

His heart-stopping smile fades when she cannot return it.

"Scott, I'm in trouble."

"Trouble? Why? What happened? I got you home in plenty of time…"

"No, it's not that. My father thinks you're a drug dealer and has forbidden me to talk to you and read my journal and knows how far I went with John and is punishing me for that." It all comes out in a rush. "I'm not supposed to talk to you at all. I can't talk to anyone. I'm grounded and my phone is cut. I can't even tell Allison what happened."

"A drug dealer?" He seems stuck on this. "Where on earth did he get that idea?"

"He said you sell paraphernalia here. Marijuana paraphernalia. And that you must have big Chicago drug connections."

"Well, we do sell pipes. And screens and papers. But I'm no drug dealer."

"I know you're not. Scott, what am I going to do?"

"Do? Obey him. You must, you haven't got a choice."

She's on the verge of tears again. "I can't live without anyone to even talk to. I have to talk to Allie."

He leads Claire to the counter. "Here, use our phone to call her."

She dials Allison and gives her the shortened version of her story. As usual, Allison is full of practical advice. "Talk to your mom. She can make him stop being so monstrous. Don't give up. He can't do this forever."

Time is up, she must return to work. Scott gives her a long hug and she leaves.

Her mother's car is not in the garage when she returns home. She refuses to have anything to do with her father, so she goes to her room. Exhausted from the emotions of the day, she flops on her bed. No phone. How will she survive?

* * *

The next morning, Monday, Claire is glad her father has to go to work. She can plot and connive uninterrupted. The first thing she does is call Allison.

"Have you talked to your mom yet?" is Alison's immediate question.

"No, I forgot she went out of town for a writer's convention. You know that book she's working on…"

"You need to talk to her right away. Can you call her at her hotel?"

Claire is surprised at Allison's imperative tone. "No," she replies. "I have no idea where she's staying."

"How long will she be gone?"

"Four more days, I think." Claire thinks about the long days stretching out ahead of her, no phone calls, no dates, no hanging out with the guys at Andy's house. It's a long time, but she can make it.

"Well, you can talk to her the minute she gets home."

Allison wants to hear all about Claire's date with Scott, but she has no heart for it and excuses herself.

* * *

The days drip by, one by one. Claire is refusing to speak to her father. Scott has maintained the position that she must obey her father whether she likes it or not, and shouldn't visit him at the mall. All she looks forward to are her conversations with Allison when her father isn't home. He tries inviting her out for sushi, promising her shopping trips, renting movies to entice her into the den. She refuses all overtures of peace without a word.

Finally Friday comes and Claire waits for her father to go pick up her mother from the airport. At one thirty he leaves and by three o'clock she hears the BMW in the drive. She remains in her room until she hears her mother descend to her study. Knocking on the open door quietly, Claire's nerves are on overdrive.

Her mother says "Come in," and gives Claire a tired smile. "Do you need something, Claire?"

"Mother, Dad read my journal. He's grounded me, he says my boyfriend is a drug dealer, he won't even let me talk to Allison." Her last few words are squeaked out past a throat closing with the pressure of tears.

"Ok, honey. Close that door, come sit down and tell me what's happening." She pats the window seat.

Claire curls into a protective ball in the nook, peeking over her arms folded on her knees.

"Start from the beginning," her mother encourages her.

"I went out on a date with Scott, and when I came home, Dad said he read my journal about what I did with John, that Scott was a drug dealer, that I was grounded, because of what he read in my journal."

"Tell me about Scott." Her mother has her serious face on, the one she has when she's writing.

"He's really nice, much more… like a gentleman than John. He works at the Mushroom, in the mall, but he isn't a drug dealer. Dad is just saying that because Scott is from Chicago."

"What did you do on your date?"

"We went to see a movie, had dinner at Ichiban, walked by the lake, came home. I was 15 minutes early, I wasn't late or anything."

"No, I mean, what did you do with Scott… Did you have sex?"

"Mother!" Claire uncurls from her ball in shock. "How can you ask me that? Of course not! It was our first date!"

"Your father seemed to think that was a likely event."

"No! We held hands, and he kissed me a little. Scott would never—I would never—No, absolutely not. That's crazy."

"Did you have sex with John?" Her mother's expression is softer now. "It's OK if you did, you won't get in trouble."

"No. I'm a virgin, mother. I wouldn't have… Not with John."

"Your father says in your journal you talked about sex with John."

Claire is bolt upright with fury now. "That is totally unfair. That is my own private place to think about things. He had no right to look at it."

"I agree. Claire, honey, I agree. He shouldn't have done it."

"Why am I grounded? Because he read something he shouldn't have read and I wasn't even doing it with John anyway!"

"I think your father is having a hard time accepting you're not a little girl anymore. I wondered if I should talk to you about this earlier in your relationship with John. But I have a hard time letting go of you too. We should have had this talk a while ago."

This talk? Claire's anger is stopped by puzzlement. What talk?

"There is nothing wrong or dirty about sex," her mother starts.

Oh my God. She wants to have the sex talk. Claire's cheeks flush.

"But it's very special. Something you should share carefully with people you have deep feelings for. People who respect you and treat you well. I lost my own virginity to someone I didn't care about because of peer pressure and I regret that. It's a mistake I don't want you to make."

Her mother is talking about losing her own virginity? This is too weird.

"I was proud when I saw you stand up to Nan and her gang of girls. It told me you were a strong girl with her own mind. I admit I didn't like John, but that was because he seemed like a loose cannon, volatile, perhaps unstable. I was very proud of you when you wouldn't discard him because of peer pressure."

How did her mother even know all this was going on? And proud of her? She can't remember her mother ever saying she was proud of her.

"I'm going to make an appointment for you to go to a gynecologist. You may not want to have sex any time soon, but you might eventually consider it and I want you to be educated about your options. What you do is between yourself and the doctor. It's not my business and it's not your father's business."

She's flabbergasted. She never thought her mother would be so… open. She always assumed her mother would disapprove of what she did with John.

"Are you Ok, sweetheart?" Her mother looks warm and concerned, not her usual distant self.

"Yes, I think so. So I'm not grounded?"

"No, you're not grounded. I expect you want to make some phone calls." She smiles and gestures Claire towards the door.

* * *

Scott rings the doorbell at seven on the dot. Claire answers with a surge of joy. She bounds out the door onto the porch and hugs him tight. When she releases him, he peers around in an exaggerated, apprehensive manner, but with his eyes sparkling.

"Your dad isn't here, is he? I don't want my throat cut."

She hugs him again and says, "No, you're safe. He's in the kitchen."

"Good, that means I can get out my drugs now."

She hooks her arm with his and pulls him down the porch steps and to his Volvo, laughing.

"So he apologized?" he wants to know.

"Yes, for reading my journal and for thinking you were a drug dealer."

"That was good of him."

"I think my mother made him." She laughs, as much from regaining her freedom as anything else.

"We're meeting everyone there?" Scott asks as he gets into gear.

"Yes, we have to go in two cars because Brian has a date too."

"The skinny kid? He has a date?"

"Yep, his first date, with a girl named Heidi he knows from school. Her parents said it had to be a double date."

When they get out of the car at the bowling alley, laughing over Scott's most recent piece of humor, Andy, Allison, Brian and Heidi are waiting . Scott puts his arm around her waist and says "I hope we can get off by ourselves sometime tonight."

Claire ardently hopes so too. She is not ready to make use of the information she was given by the gynecologist, but she sure is looking forward to more of Scott's kisses.


End file.
